Deal of Chances
by tyrells
Summary: Derrick sets out to secure a deal for his father, bringing him head to head with his old friend, Kemp Hurley. Pure luck lands him the upper hand, newly discovered opportunities, and a chance in the form of the beautiful Massie Block. Derrick always collects his winnings. All of them. / very, very AU / COMPLETE /
1. Part I

**Title:** Deal of Chances  
**Chapter**: 1/2  
**Pairings:** Derrick Harrington/Massie Block, Kemp Hurley/Massie Block  
**Rating:** _Relatively_ Mature [As in, I planned this one shot with _smut_, but then changed my mind by splitting it up.]  
**Warnings:** Alcohol use, alternate universe, bets on people for people, drug mentions, dubious consent, gambling, gang mentions, and language.  
**Word Count:** 3,890  
**Disclaimer:** "The Clique" is the property of Lisi Harrison and Alloy Entertainment. This is a work of fanfiction and written for fun, not profit. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Summary:** Derrick sets out on a mission to secure a deal.  
**Dedication**: To Nalanda [_deanwinchesters_], my fav ever. Thank you for the encouragement. I really wouldn't and couldn't have written this without you.  
**Author's Notes:** LOL. So as you can tell once you start reading, this **whole** plotline was set up for the dirtiest, _smuttiest_ smut ever. I'm almost kind of sad I had to edit it all out and PG the crap out of it.

_Still_, there is disturbing content [_heed warnings_] that no one except for me will probably enjoy, LOL. But then again, this is fanfiction, written by me, for me. So... I might rewrite this with original characters and post it on Tumblr or something, maybe. Set in a world where Derrick and Kemp are gang members or from mafia families or _something_, just know they're no-good people involved in drug trafficking, okay? God, one-shots are hard, I always have so much background info I want to include. I should have made this a multi-chap, in hindsight. Told in Derrick POV for funsies.

Sorry, I can't help _but_ write dysfunctional Massington. It's a problem.

If you're wondering about _Wicked Games_, starting May 8th, my priority list for writing will be as follows: _Wicked Games_, these one-shots, _Surprise!_, and then _Shots, Shots, Shots_.

* * *

**Deal of Chances: Part I**

##

There was a pounding in his head that told him he had cut it close, taking off from New York at the last minute and only just stepping off the plane hours before the meeting, but he didn't regret it. Surveying the dimly lit casino through a haze of bitter cigar smoke, Derrick Harrington swirled the scotch in his hand slowly. The sight and the sounds of chips clattering and the loud laughter of well dressed people only added to throbbing behind his eyes. He hadn't been looking forward to this meeting at all and Derrick's body seemed to be agreeing with him.

He wanted this over with as soon as possible.

The only reason that he was here brokering this deal was because his father was still overseeing things in South America and Sammi was as far away as she could get, trying to distance herself away from what they did, what they _do_.

Otherwise, he wouldn't be here at all, waiting in a crowed casino and rebuffing eager women while _waiting_ for Kemp Hurley. The Harrington and the Hurley families went way back, as allies and as friends, their children growing up together. That was, until the Hurley's decided to start their own Mafia family, Kemp's father screwing Derrick's and Kemp screwing Derrick over himself.

That had been back in college and back when Kemp and he had been roommates and best friends, where Kemp had taught him loyalty meant as much to him as _family_, which was jack shit from the way they severed their gang ties. Kemp had burned all the remaining bridges between them by fucking his girlfriend. Derrick had beat him within an inch of his life for the double betrayal.

He was the last person his father should have sent to broker this deal. There was no lost love between him and Kemp.

Derrick turned his head toward the direction of the elevators and downed the rest of his drink in one go. The burn in his throat woke him up a bit and warmed him up for what was to come. The arrival of his old friend couldn't have been better timed. Kemp, and the bodyguards accompanying him, noticed him instantly. They were headed straight his way. Kemp looked better than the last time he saw him, but that wasn't saying much, considering what went down. Derrick pushed off his seat and with a tug on his suit to straighten it, stepped up to meet them.

"Derrick," Kemp drawled, locked and loaded with smirk that turned Derrick's stomach with its familiarity. "I should have known he'd send you."

With the Hurleys as the rising family in New York, his father sending Derrick, second in line for boss, could have been taken for an insult if Kemp chose. But Derrick knew he wouldn't, they needed each other. What Derrick was set out to discover was who needed the other more.

So Derrick grinned, knowing there was nothing friendly about it. "It's almost as if you're unhappy to see me."

Kemp sat down at an empty table, his legs spread wide and confident. Derrick joined him and watched with impassive eyes as his friend waved his bodyguards away. Derrick wondered how often Kemp went around with bodyguards and whether it was just in case things went sour. He smothered a grin, a real one this time, at the notion that Kemp hadn't forgotten who won that round.

Both Derrick and Kemp paid the waitress who had swooped in with drinks for them no mind.

"How's the old man?" Kemp asked. He propped an arm up, leaned back in his chair, and stretched his legs out. His Bottega's shone even in the low lightning.

"Let's just get down to it," he said instead of answering, pushing his drink away and leaning forward in his chair. He glanced around, but the noise levels of the casino and now the bar guaranteed their privacy. "Here are the terms. 40,000 kilos a year, you supply the workers, we supply the boats, and we supply the connections. _We'll_ deal with the rest."

"See?" Kemp sniffed. He knocked back his drink carelessly. "How do I know that once the boats pass, that you won't sell us out and fuck me over?"

Derrick smirked, predatory. "That's a risk you're going to have to take."

"We've had other offers, _better_ offers. Your connections are nothing compared to the others who have come calling. So you see, Harrington, we don't need you."

The emphasis on his last name was a warning. The Hurleys didn't need the Harringtons. Not anymore. Derrick wondered if he was bluffing, if there really were other offers, because if so, the Harringtons would be the only ones losing in this scenario. They needed in on this.

"How about a game?" Kemp asked with a tilt of his head toward the game tables, after watching Derrick process this new turn of events. "Of poker. See, I can afford to be choosy. You impress me and it's a deal."

Derrick weighed his options. Normally, he'd be all for it, but Kemp knew all his tells. It'd be all up to luck for him in a game with Kemp. Derrick resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Only Kemp would balance his decision over a game of _cards_. He was sick of all the double crossings, sick of all the games, and sick of Kemp's fucking face. He wanted this over with, but his father wanted this deal. He sighed internally.

He met Kemp's eyes. "Alright. You're on."

##

Kemp had jack shit, he knew it, but Derrick was going to let him win anyways. His hand wasn't _that_ great and he already had a hefty sum in his corner, most of it Kemp's money. Kemp was just having shit luck today, because he wasn't normally this bad. Or at least, he hadn't been in the past.

Still, Derrick was winning by a long shot. They'd been playing for hours and the deal was his. His playing sealed it, but Kemp was stubborn. He had always been stubborn and he never knew when to quit. Derrick had always sworn that it would be his downfall.

Derrick shifted slightly in his seat. An obvious ploy, to give the impression that he was bluffing, a fake tell. He wondered if Kemp bought it. Probably, considering that he was winning by a wide margin. Kemp was down half a million.

"Fold," Derrick huffed, tossing his cards and making sure they landed face down on the table. Honestly, he was tired of this fucking game. Maybe this win would satisfy Kemp. Build up his ego, just enough to accept defeat, and help him seal the deal between their families. "You win. You satisfied, man?"

"Not really," Kemp said, collecting his winnings from the pile in the middle of the table. His smile wasn't encouraging. "You're not even really playing."

Derrick didn't deny it. His old friend was right, his heart wasn't in it. He wasn't personally invested in this, he had no motivation. He hated that he was forced to make nice with Kemp. The only reason he was here in the first place was for his father. The only response he gave though, was, "You have nothing I want."

Movement caught the corner of Derrick's eye. There was a brunette in a long, dark burgundy dress, walking across the casino, her long sinuous legs tantalizing from the slits on the side. She was something to admire, the way she held herself; slim, erect, confident. She practically glowed in the low lighting of the casino. A woman who _knew_ she was all woman, especially with the way she made Derrick's pulse race. His heart lifted at the sight of her.

Only to drop into his stomach instantly.

There could only be one reason she was heading their way. His connection was confirmed when she stopped behind Kemp, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Winning big, babe?" she asked with a sly smile. Of _course_ a girl like that would be tied to Kemp Hurley. It was karma shitting on his face again.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked up and met his eyes. And it was like something clicked and locked into place. She had the most striking amber eyes, framed with dark lashes, and it was as if the wheels of destiny itself was encompassing him, as fucking cheesy as it was. He could tell that she felt it too, from the way her breath hitched suddenly, as if they were already connected.

Kemp tilted his head. "Massie, this is my old friend Derrick Harrington. Derrick, my girl, Massie."

Massie brought her hand up with a little wave. She was beautiful, but it was more than that. She was Derrick's kind of beautiful—unforgettable eyes with a hint of sadness in them, as if she knew too much about the world. She had pouty lips that Derrick wanted to taste, fine lustrous dark brown hair, regal features, and the grace to go with it.

He wanted her.

And meeting his brown eyes, he could tell she knew it. Her hand dropped and she was suddenly wary, on guard almost. She turned her attention to the table, at the pile of money on his end of the table, the pile at Kemp's, and turned back to her partner.

"He's cleaning you out," she teased, her fingers finding the hair on the back Kemp's neck with familiarity.

This was surprising to Derrick. Kemp never allowed these sorts of liberties from any of his relationships in the past. But then again, it had been years, how well did he know Kemp, anyways?

"Get me a drink?" Kemp asked in response, nodding his head toward the bar. Massie dropped her hand from his hair instantly and straightened up. Even he could tell that she was pissed, she left without another word.

"Nothing you want, huh?" Kemp said the moment Massie was out of earshot. It wasn't a question. There was a cocky smirk on his lips, and it didn't bode well for Derrick.

Derrick met his old friend's eyes head on.

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Derrick," Kemp snorted. "You couldn't take your eyes off her."

What was the point in denying it? Honestly, he felt bad for her. He wondered how long they had been together, whether she knew about Kemp's family business or point of their meeting today.

Kemp leaned back in his chair once more. "Tell you what? We play one more round, all or nothing. You win, you get the all money, you settle the deal, _and_ you get a night with Massie."

It was a shock to the system, to hear an offer thrown on the table like that. The smirk on Kemp's face was sickening now.

"I don't think so," Derrick finally said. It wasn't just about Massie, it was about the deal. And to leave the fate their deal to chance, _luck_, was too risky. They'd been playing for hours; Derrick, with impressive wins, he should have sealed the deal fair and square anyway.

"I'm serious," Kemp said, his eyes malicious. "We'll play for it. You win this last round, you get it all."

"Maybe you should talk this through with _her_ before you offer her like that."

"She'll do what I say," his old friend assured him, his smirked broadening. "She likes you too, I can tell. Come on, Derrick. I just want to play a round, where you're all in. I want to see how bad you want it. And I want to beat you when you're actually trying."

Derrick was tired of his ex friend's sick and twisted games, sick of the sight and sounds of cards and chips, and pissed off the sight of Kemp's fucking smirk. His father told him to use whatever means necessary to secure the cocaine, hadn't he? And if he won, if he won a night with Massie, well, it'd be poetic justice for what happened in college, wouldn't it? He glanced over at the bar, where Massie stood chatting with the bartender, barebacked in that dress, with endless smooth skin.

There was no way. Derrick couldn't even bring himself to believe it. No way it would really happen.

He was in it for the deal.

"You're a sick fuck," Derrick finally rasped at Kemp, but even so, he was pushing his chips onto the center of the table.

"So are you, Derrick," Kemp grinned, "So are you."

Derrick signaled for his own drink. Now that the end was in sight, he wanted to be drunk. No, he _needed_ to be drunk. Instead of making him more invested in the game, the deal only made Derrick kind of nauseated. Not Kemp though, the notion that he had something Derrick wanted seemed to excite him.

He had found the chink in Derrick's armor.

The dealer dealt him his hand. Massie walked back over, glass of scotch in hand. But she paused before setting it down beside Kemp, as if she knew something was up. As if they were giving off vibes. Derrick wondered how Kemp was going to break it to her.

But Kemp broke it to her straight up. He smiled at her and said, "We're playing for a night with _you_, baby. What do you think about that?"

"I think you better be fucking joking," Massie snapped, clutching the drink in her hand so tight, Derrick wouldn't be surprised to see it crack. She had mouth on her; it was a stark contradiction to her elegant looks.

Kemp grinned smarmily, all slime, with no fear to any bodily harm to his person. "No joke, darling. If Derrick wins, he gets all the money, you for the night, and a sealed deal of 40,000 kilos."

Her amber eyes were pure fire, but she set Kemp's drink down on the table calmly.

"Fuck you," she snarled at Kemp, but in a move completely surprising Derrick, she sat down at their table. She was so furious, so gorgeous, that Derrick felt bad for her—just not enough to call it off completely. This was his chance to seal the deal. He needed those 40,000 kilos. At least, that's what he was telling himself.

Massie met his eyes, all anger and amber and fire. And Derrick read her completely in them. Fuck him over, they said. Beat him to the ground, they said._ Win_, they told him. She wanted to hurt him, harm him. She wanted Kemp to lose everything.

Derrick lifted his cards slightly for a peek. The odds were in his favor. He kept his face impassive, waiting for the dealer. And on the seventh card, he pulled a straight.

Pure chance.

Derrick shifted in his seat, his fake tell; wanting Kemp to think he had it, to think he won.

"Show," Kemp finally said.

Derrick laid out his cards. Kemp barely had two pair. His old friend sat still for a moment, staring at his cards, before his face broke out into an unsettling grin. "Luck was on your side, my friend."

He shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink in disgust. He wasn't even sure he believed it. "Chance."

"Either way, you win." Kemp sounded satisfied, rather than angry. Derrick _knew_ that Kemp had been playing him the whole time. It really hadn't mattered to Kemp whether they sealed the deal or not.

"You _fucking_ asshole! You sick son of a bitch!" Massie suddenly cried, kicking back her chair with a loud clatter and drawing the attention of the other occupants at the surrounding tables.

Kemp ignored her. Instead, he turned to Derrick. "When do you want her?"

Massie raised her hand as if to strike him, but Kemp's bodyguard caught her hand before it made contact. Derrick watched the interaction with unreadable eyes.

"Now," he said.

Kemp raised his eyebrows at that. "You sure? You look dead on your feet, buddy. Tomorrow, when you've relaxed…"

"Now," he repeated slowly.

Kemp nodded in response, watching as the dealer handed Derrick the slip of his winnings. "We'll work out the details of the deal tomorrow then."

Massie wrenched herself free from Kemp's bodyguards grip and faced Kemp. "You're sick," she told him. She turned to Derrick then, her face flushed and her eyes bright. "Let's go."

Without another word, she turned on her heel. Derrick barely spared Kemp a glance before following after her.

##

She was pissed.

Massie's long legs scissored up the distance across the bar and casino toward the elevators, Derrick trailing after her. The back of her dress dipped exceptionally low—and she held herself in a way that merited second looks, back straight, head held high. Derrick had never had a type, but he thought he just discovered it, alpha girls like Massie. Her beauty was almost imposing; people's eyes met hers as she walked before darting down, knowing instantly she wasn't a woman to be messed with, only rising, returning to trail after her the moment she passed. Derrick would bet everything he had that it happened wherever she went.

He already had, hadn't he?

Derrick wasn't a fucking idiot though. He knew Massie wasn't going to fall into bed with him just because Kemp Hurley told her to. Still, he couldn't let her go. It'd be just like Kemp to rescind the deal if he turned her down. Plus, it'd look like Kemp never paid up and Derrick never collected. It'd be bad for both of them.

He couldn't let her go.

Massie stopped before the elevators, stabbing the down button harshly. She brushed her hair roughly out of her face. Her hair swung, hiding her back, long and lush and begging to be grabbed. Derrick was half hard just looking at her.

He couldn't let her go. Worse still, he didn't want to.

He hoped she stayed as pissed as she was. He hoped she stayed so pissed that she fucked him out of spite, just to hurt Kemp.

The elevator doors dinged open and she strode in. Derrick jabbed the lobby and the close button before anyone else could approach. The doors slid shut. The tension ascended in the enclosed space. Derrick could feel the heat she was radiating. Massie didn't look at him, only stared at her murky reflection in the chrome doors. She was still pissed, so Derrick knew to keep his mouth shut. He could also tell that she was someone who couldn't stand the silence; he waited for her to speak.

"I'm not an object to be sold, a deal to seal. I don't belong to Kemp, or you, or _anybody_," she finally said, when they neared the ground floor. "I'm not a _prize_ to be won."

"I know," Derrick told her. He knew that. She was a royalty, a princess, and worthy of more than scum like Kemp and scum like him.

But he couldn't let her go.

She must have known that. He didn't have to force her; she followed him out the lobby, and stood with him as he waited for the valet. The Caribbean air was windy, but warm, but still she shivered. In fear? Or in anticipation? Derrick couldn't read her.

The moment his car rolled up, Derrick pulled open the passenger door for her. Massie hesitated, before sliding in reluctantly, gracefully. Derrick shut the door after her with resolution. He rounded to the driver's side and slid in. He turned and watched her profile, arms crossed, head turned out toward the car window, eyes searching the casino. He wondered if she was expecting Kemp to call it off.

Derrick knew he wouldn't. Kemp probably thought he was doing him a favor. He knew the way his old friend's mind worked. He was paying him back for his betrayal back in college and trying to make amends through Massie, along with allowing the deal.

"I can't let you go," Derrick said. "You have to stay with me at least until morning."

Massie ignored him, head still turned away. The only indication he received that she heard was the uncomfortable shift in her seat and the crossing of her legs. His eyes were drawn to them, sleek and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. He wondered if her predicament was slipping in yet, if she realized what she what had happened and what she was in for. He pulled the car into drive and drove.

##

* * *

**A/N:** I'm twisted, I know. The last part is about 80% written. You might want to beware the next chapter anyway, because we get hints of _sexy_ times bow chica wow wow. I'll have it up literally _tonight _or by tomorrow afternoon.

xx


	2. Part II

**Title:** Deal of Chances  
**Chapter**: 2/2  
**Pairing:** Derrick Harrington/Massie Block  
**Rating:** Mature [As in, I planned this one shot with _smut_, but then changed my mind by splitting it up.]  
**Warnings:** Alcohol use, alternate universe, drug mentions, dubious consent, gang mentions, and _hints of sexy times_ bow chica wow wow, language, and violence.  
**Word Count:** 4,620  
**Summary:** Derrick discovers more chances.  
**Author's Notes:** yo _no_ smut. it's a fade-to-black cut-away, but I still made it M because there's a lot of buildup to it. If you don't want to read that part skip to the second '##' ENJOY BYE

* * *

**Deal of Chances: Part II**

##

Derrick usually took out penthouse suites, but on missions like this, it was better not to draw attention to yourself. He unlocked the door to his basic suite with a beep and held open the door for Massie. The place wasn't too shabby compared to where he usually stayed when out of the States, but he was used to it. A living area and bar, furnished in creamy white and yellows, a raised platform leading to the bedroom, and a balcony overlooking the blue Caribbean Sea. He didn't turn on the light; the moonlight was bright enough for them to see.

Derrick stripped himself of his suit and cufflinks, tossing them on the couch in front of him. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbow and loosened his tie, feeling constricted. He headed over to the bar and poured himself a drink. He poured another for Massie too, but left it on the counter.

He watched her as she explored the room. They both looked so out of place in this shabby hotel. She wondered what she was used to. Her dress was expensive, but was it a gift from Kemp? Where did she live? Did she travel with Kemp? And if she did, did she stay in rooms like this or in lavish penthouses? He knew a lot about her from just observing, but also nothing at all.

Massie turned back to him. Her amber eyes glowed in the light of the moon coming from the glass windows next to her. She watched him, leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles, drink in hand. She shut her eyes and opened them again slowly.

"You want me," she finally breathed with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yes," Derrick admitted instantly. There was no hesitation in his statement.

At his quick reply, the corner of her mouth twitched as if she was going to smile. She didn't though. Instead, she asked, "Why?"

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

This time Massie's red lips hitched up on one side in a pleased smile. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted in her heels. "You want me to sleep with you."

It wasn't a question. Derrick answered her anyways, "Yes."

"You're sick too then. You're just like him," Massie snapped, tilting her head outside the window, gesturing back toward the casino where they had left Kemp.

"Then you're used to it." Derrick knocked back the rest of his drink.

Massie's nostrils flared in anger at his retort. He expected her to yell, to try to hurt him the way she did Kemp back at the casino when she was angry, he hadn't brought bodyguards along to stop her, but she surprised him again by smoothing her face into an emotionless mask. As if she was brushing off what he said, as if Derrick was nothing but an irksome fly she could ignore if she chose.

He found himself getting mad. Her impassivity infuriated him. He liked her better fiery, but it was as if she had _known_ that and was doing this on purpose. He wondered which one was the real her. He filed the information away for later, he would find out. Placing his glass on the counter, he approached her. Massie's breath hitched at his proximity, but she didn't back away. She met his stare.

"What's your last name?" he asked.

Massie's face stayed impassive, but her red lips tilted up slightly again as if in secret amusement. Her amber eyes seemed to see through him and his weaknesses completely. "Hurley," she whispered slowly.

She was lying. Already, he could read her expressions, even emotionless as she tried to be. She wanted to stump him or throw him off, but he had expected it. It didn't work.

"Your _real_ name," he said, tugging at his tie again. It slithered to the ground.

Massie's amber eyes darkened at the motion and her smile widened at being caught. "Block."

"_Block_," he repeated reverently. It was fitting. She was a force to be reckoned with. Something tugged at his memory, but he brushed it off to focus on the girl in front of him. Derrick reached up and traced the line of her jaw with this thumb. Massie didn't move, but her breathing sped up and her face flushed. She couldn't hide it even if she tried, not when he was so close to her, watching her so closely. "You want me too."

"My body is not for sale," Massie said instead of confirming. But to Derrick, all that mattered was that it wasn't a denial. He said _he_ couldn't let her go, but there was nothing holding _Massie_ here. She could have left, could have put distance between them, could have walked out anytime. There was nothing stopping her. But she didn't. Even now, when he was so close to her that they were breathing the same air, she didn't leave.

"What are you doing with a guy like Kemp?" he murmured under his breath, admiring the slope of her collarbones, her bare shoulders, and her neck. Everything about her was graceful. She smelled like vanilla and flowers, womanly.

At the mention of her lover, Massie turned her face away from his grip. "That's none of your business." The tightening of her shoulders and the furrow of her brows told him she was confused by his question. _Why do you even care?_ he saw her wondering.

Because she was the beauty of the world, with confidence ringing in her tones and sly secret smiles he wanted to devour. There was cunning in her eyes and passion in every move she made. She was fiery and icy all at once, an enigma he couldn't read, and Derrick prided himself on reading people. She was stubborn and strong, but weak and willing and sexual. She was everything he had ever desired.

She was right though. She wasn't his; he had no right to her. But still, he wondered about her story, about how she ended up around the same circles as Kemp, about how a girl like her allowed a man to treat her like that. He couldn't stop himself though, "Do you love him?"

"What does it matter?" Massie whispered, shaking her head with her eyes shut tight. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are," Derrick allowed. He allowed himself to bask in the thought that she wanted this too, probably as much as he did. She was willing. She was _here_. His hand moved from her jaw to her neck, burning a trail of heat, and her skin erupted in goose bumps wherever he touched. Her eyes stayed shut, but her breathing was steady. She was silent, she was pliant.

Derrick stepped around her, encircled her. His hands grasped her thick locks and brushed them over one shoulder. His stomach fluttered in anticipation at the sight of her bare back and neck. His hand reached for the strap holding her dress up. He paused, though, his hand hovering over her.

"Are you sure?" he asked lowly.

He wanted to give her one last chance. The silence in the dim room was thick with tension. For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing. Derrick felt his heart in his throat at the possibility she would turn him down. But then, she whispered, "Yes."

He tugged and parted her dress, pushing it off her shoulders, down her arms, and allowing it to pool around her waist. Her hands came up to cover herself in front in a show of modesty. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, tasting her, and she gasped. The noise was a shot to his groin. She tilted her head, submitting under him, and Derrick could tell she felt his pleased smile against her body. Luxuriantly, indolently, almost dazedly, his tongue caressed her endless smooth skin. He could taste the flutter of her pulse and the heat of her body.

Derrick smoothed his hands down her shoulders, her back, and over her waist. One quick tug and she was naked, her dress pooling around her feet, clad in only her heels and silk underwear. But then, in another move surprising him once again, she turned in his arms and dropped her arms, betraying the false modesty she had put up only moments before.

He stared at her. "You're worth more than any deal in the world."

She kissed him.

Nothing could have prepared him for it. A volcano eruption, a nuclear bomb, it was an explosion of passion. Her hands balling into fists on his shoulders and clutching his shirt, she pressed against him, falling hungrily into his mouth, smothering him with her warm breath, her heated scent, the press of her breasts, and the taste of vanilla, honeysuckle, and something deeper.

He pushed back against her, one hand slipping around her waist and pulling her close, the other slipping behind her head into her hair and gripping, hungry for more. Maybe it was the feel of her bare breasts brushing against his dress shirt, maybe it was the press of his hard cock against her stomach, maybe it was his hands gripping her to him to the point of pain, but she surrendered at his rough handling with a sigh of utter bliss. And like the flowers she tasted of, she bloomed under him, parting her lips and allowing his tongue entry to massage and stroke hers, fanning the flames of desire higher.

It was heaven.

It was ecstasy.

It was too much. With a gasp, Derrick pulled away, panting like he was running a marathon. Massie panted her own breaths into the curve of his jaw, setting about unbuttoning his shirt. He pushed her back up against the living room wall, harder than he meant to; her head hit the plaster with a thump. Derrick barely cared, pressing his lips back against her skin of her neck and sucking.

She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, as if to push him away. She didn't.

Derrick kissed his way down her chest, down her stomach, suckling and licking and caressing. He was all over her and she was sensitive everywhere he caressed. She was flushed and glossy eyed and beautiful. So beautiful, it made Derrick's teeth ache.

On his knees in front of her, his suckled her hipbone and his hand slid up her leg and found her panties. She was wet, he could feel it. He groaned out loud. There was no denial possible now. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

His hand slipped up under her silk underwear through the leg hole, barely grazing _her_. He glanced up at her and met her dilated eyes, watched her flushed face, ached for her parted lips.

"Last chance," he murmured. "There's no going back. Do you want this?"

No hesitation. "_Yes_," she cried. Derrick jerked her underwear down. It was the last coherent word she said.

##

Afterward, Derrick watched her lay there on the bed, unmoving and staring at the ceiling in concentration. Her body was relaxed, stated. It had easily been the best sex of his life, but there was an troubled feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And he hadn't survived this long in his life by ignoring his instincts.

He was raised better than that. Derrick rolled off the bed and slid on his boxers, reaching for his phone in his discarded pant pockets.

He took out his phone and sent out a text to one of his guys, Chris Plovert on an update on his whereabouts and just as he clicked send, he realized.

It had been _too fucking easy_.

He'd been played. Massie was the honeypot, the bait.

As if sensing his sudden tension, Massie sat up on the bed, drawing the sheet up to cover herself in a show of unneeded modesty. He had seen it all already.

Like a cord was severed, anger ballooned in him in overwhelming waves. He narrowed his eyes at her. His voice was low and dangerous. "Do you do this often?"

Massie's narrowed her own eyes at him, rolling out of bed. "Do you _think_ I would be with a man who sold me out regularly?"

No, she wasn't the type, he knew that much. She'd never allow herself to be treated like that, not by someone like Kemp. And no self respecting girl would come back here with him without some knowledge or incentive or motive. But she _had_. Massie knew _something_, knew enough. Enough about Kemp and him and the business to be in on it. To be willing enough.

Derrick strode over to his open suitcase and pulled out his gun. Massie flinched, but she didn't cower away.

"I'm going to ask you again. How many times have you done this before?"

Massie shifted the sheet on her chest. He took in her sex tousled hair and red swollen lips, her flushed cheeks and heightened breaths, and felt another surge of anger at the desire that crashed over him. Molten fury and shame at almost being bested by Kemp rolled in his stomach like the memories of the old betrayal.

He cocked his gun.

"Just once," Massie blurted suddenly at the sound. "He tried to get me to do it one other time, but I set it up to meet the guy the next day and I got the address and hotel room beforehand. I never met with him. I just told Kemp the location."

Derrick grabbed her by the arm roughly and forced her on the bed at the admission. The notion that Kemp used such tactics with his girlfriend was so _him_ that Derrick wasn't even surprised.

"So what?" Derrick asked, keeping his face hard as stone. "You tire me out with sex, wait until I'm out cold, and call him? What's he going to do? Kill me?"

"I don't know. Maybe!" Massie squealed at the feel of the cold barrel of his gun at her temple. "I swear, I don't know what he planned. But he said something about payback. Payback for what happened in college."

Derrick exhaled loudly through his nose. Of course. _Predictable_. He eyed her. Massie had had nothing on her person. No purse and no phone, so she must have been planning to call him on the hotel phone. It would have been a colossal mistake. He strode over and ripped it from the wall.

Massie winced at the sound. Her eyes were fiery again now that his gun was away from her face. "Are you going to kill me?"

He looked at her again, met her eyes, and shit, he was in fucking deep. Because he probably couldn't, even if he wanted to. He walked over and leaned over her, his hands on the bed on either side of her thighs, trapping her in. The butt of his pistol brushed against her hip, but she kept her eyes on him.

"I'll ask you again," Derrick said slowly. "Why are you with a guy like Kemp?"

Massie smirked, nice and slow. "The life excites me."

Derrick felt his own lips twitch. He fought down his amusement. He considered her for a moment and then he shifted his weight and raised the gun again, running it up the side of her neck. Her breath hitched like it was his lips caressing her. He stopped the barrel under her chin and forced her head up.

"Tell me the truth now," he murmured against her lips. "Did he order you to sleep with me? Or did you do it with your own free will?"

And even though her eyes dilated in fear, Massie's smirk widened. "What do you think I'd say? With a gun pointed at me?"

Derrick grinned at her cockiness. If he was going to kill her, he would have killed her the moment she confessed. They both knew it. He was teasing her now. He deliberated. "…I think that you'd consider that. And then tell me the _truth_."

"I came because I wanted to," Massie answered after searching his eyes for a moment. "If anything, he ordered me _not_ to sleep with you. But… it's different with you."

Derrick thought he knew what she meant. Already he felt inexplicably tied to her, like they were in the same network and connected more than they were. He'd felt it the moment he laid eyes on her. He wanted her from the moment he spotted her. He couldn't let her go.

He wanted to kiss her, but he wasn't stupid. But then again, if he was inept enough to be bested by the old honeypot planted by _Kemp_ of all people and then overpowered by a slip of a girl like Massie, he _deserved_ to die.

"Do you know who I am? _Really_?" he asked her instead. She nodded in confirmation and Derrick clutched the gun in his hand tighter. "Okay," Derrick said softly. "This is the part where you tell me everything you know."

Massie considered him in return. "How do I know you won't kill me the moment I tell you everything?"

Derrick smirked, his grin predatory. "That's a risk you're going to have to take." The gun stayed pressed to her, biting into the skin under her chin. "What are the chances of Kemp rescuing you before I shoot?"

The answer was obvious.

"Was the whole deal a set up from the beginning?" Derrick demanded.

Massie shook her head slightly. He jabbed the gun up under her chin harder with a stern eye. "I'm gonna need more than that."

"No," she rasped. He lowered the gun a notch at her compliance. "No, he has the coke. He met with a guy over in South America or something. He just needs the boats to get them from here to the US."

Derrick lowered his gun slowly. He was surprised at how much she knew. It was highly unlikely that Kemp told her all this. As if she read his eyes, she shrugged with that same sly grin he liked so much back on her face, "Walls are thin in Columbia."

"And do you know who he's planning on getting his boats and connections from if not me?"

Massie furrowed her brow, thinking, but he saw through her easily. She was bluffing. She knew a lot, way more than she should. Derrick was willing to bet she knew so much by eavesdropping on purpose, for her own survival. He knew she was cunning. He gripped her by the hair and tugged sharply to capture her attention. "I'm not a patient guy."

"Rivera. The meeting was in Spain, but they're based in New York too. They're the ones that secured him the kilos in the first place," Massie instantly said with a wince.

Derrick froze at her words, his mind whirling with the implications. He knew the Riveras. The fact that _they_ were going to get the deal his family desperately needed so bad was another blow his family couldn't suffer. It was bad enough being backstabbed by the Hurleys.

He had already experienced the feeling once. He knew exactly what he had to do now. You burned your bridges before your opponent could. And from _this_ experience, he learned something else, you don't cripple your enemies, you kill them. And good riddance forever. When he was done with Kemp after this mess with Massie, they were going need to scrap him off the walls to even ID him.

"Alright," Derrick said slowly, his mind already making connections and plans and plots. "Alright," he repeated, winding his hand deeper into Massie's hair and pulling so that her face was near his. Their breaths mingled as they considered each other. "Here are your options."

Massie swallowed, opening her mouth to speak, but Derrick cut across her. "Here are your options: You run. You sell the jewelry on your wrist and that dress on the floor out there for a plane ticket and you _run_." Here, he paused and feigned a careless shrug. "You'll probably be running for the rest of your life after the other guys hear what went down. When it gets out what I did to Kemp for his tricks and when they hear that it was _you_ who sold him out."

Massie's eyes had widened at his sudden careless tone and ruthless words. He continued. "Or, I save you the torture of what Kemp's guys are going to do to you if they ever catch you. We can fake a struggle…" He paused here and stared into her amber eyes so that she could tell that he was dead serious. "And I shoot your brains out."

But in another one of her endless moves that would probably never cease to surprise him, instead of cowering in fear, Massie giggled, light and airy as if he had told a funny joke. He blinked at her.

"I don't think so," she purred. "You see, Derrick, none of those options sound appealing to me."

"You don't have a choice," Derrick told her, but he considered her. She might never cease to surprise him. Everything about her was more than he expected. He should have seen this coming.

"I have more choices than _that_," Massie replied, her eyes clearing and her smile dropping. She was angry again. He released her hair at her words and stood up. "Do you think I'm an idiot? In this for the high? For the rich life? Do I look like the type? …I've heard of you, Derrick Harrington, but I guess, you've never heard of me."

"The guy Kemp met in South America? The one with the kilos?" Massie tilted her head and smiled slyly at him, her eyes glimmering devious. "…was my Daddy."

Derrick's heart skipped a beat at the sudden turn of events. The nagging feeling was back, from earlier, tugging at his brain. Only this time, Derrick gave it the chance to click. "William _Block_," he rasped finally. "You're William Block's daughter."

"Bingo." Massie hitched the sheet higher over her chest and Derrick was jostled back into remembering she was naked. He took in the sight of her again, with his marks on her neck and breasts, and felt the drum of desire washing over him again.

What were the odds? What were the chances?

Pure luck.

"You're right." Derrick grinned, slowly, cheekily. A winning smile. He smoothed a hand over her cheekbones and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, exposing his marks. He traced his finger over a purple one on the curve of her neck and considered her. "You _do_ have more choices."

Massie smiled sweetly at him in agreement. He raised his gun and dropped out the chamber. He tossed the gun on the bed and the bullets separately into his suitcase. He wasn't dumb; Massie was something special. He wouldn't put it past her.

"Do you love him?" His fingertips grazed over the pulse on her throat and Massie shivered.

"Who?" she asked, watching him.

"Kemp."

"I enjoyed him," Massie replied steadily. Derrick would be willing to bet that Massie was the only reason Kemp had the connections to the kilos. He had suited her fancy.

And if he went further back, Massie was probably the only reason the Hurley family had the ability to sever ties with the Harrington family way back when. They couldn't have done it without the coke from the Blocks.

He was sick of games and sick of twists, and sick of the Hurleys and sick of Kemp. How ironic was it that Kemp was planning on stabbing him in the back again, but in the end, end up really putting the deal and Massie on the table.

And now Derrick had her. Kemp's girlfriend, his connections, her family, all under his thumb. He knew chances when he saw them.

_Poetic justice_.

Karma was favoring him tonight.

"And me?" Derrick grinned, crawling over her. Massie leaned back slightly, the teasing smile still on her face.

He didn't give her a chance to answer; his lips were on her skin again, pressing her against the bed, devouring her moans and her sighs and swallowing them down. He was high on adrenaline, high on victory.

"Kemp's a fucking idiot," he whispered against her neck, breathing in her scent. He was lost in her, consumed by her. "I'd never sell you. Not for 40,000 kilos, not for some petty revenge, not for anything in the world."

Massie turned and looked at him as if she didn't believe him, but he meant it. He was fucking _fucked_, because he meant it. He was sure he'd met his match. Massie Block was going to be the death of him.

Her soft hands caressed his stomach and lit him on fire. "I enjoy you more," she finally said, answering his question and soothing his fears. Her eyes were bright and her face was flushed in embarrassment.

Derrick pressed his lips against hers and _fuck_, just a touch was a torch to his veins. Massie wound her arms around him and hummed her enjoyment, a sound he lapped off her lips like raw sugar. She was so responsive, sensitive, uninhibited that she was a potent drug that he was sure he could overdose on. She was lethal. He craved to know her. All of her.

Derrick pulled away, breathing hard through his nose, which wasn't easy with the way Massie was peppering kisses along his jawline and down his neck.

"You have kilos of coke, but you can't transfer any of it without my connections. You have the Rivera's, but you can't sell on US soil with my family's connections. Block, I think this sounds like the start of a beautiful relationship."

Massie tilted her head back with a twinkle in her eye and jokes in her tone. "Are you proposing?"

"I think we can both benefit from a business union like that."

She smiled that sly smile of hers up at him again. "Deal."

##

* * *

**A/N:** Tada! I kind of left it with an open ending, but at least it's a happy one. Sort of. Was it what you were expecting?

This is the first in a series of smutty one-shots tropes I had planned. One cliche for each PC member. Next up is Alicia, but I still don't know who I should write her with. Should I do... _Alicia/Josh_ or _Alicia/Cam_? What would you guys like to read more of?

Thanks for reading! Kisses!

xx


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